Top Gear
by Summer Evenings
Summary: What if John could drive a car just as well as Bond?


**Top Gear**

If there was one thing that he absolutely couldn't stand, it was being left behind… _again_. Mumbling under his breath, John took off at a sprint around the corner of the rusting airplane hanger, tracking a line of footprints towards the edge of the lot and off towards an abandoned runway.

"Should be simple enough John. The mud on their shoes clearly comes from north of here and there is only one place large enough to hold the kind of equipment they are selling. You can surely handle two men at once," he imitated Sherlock lowly, rolling his good shoulder back as he slowed to a walk and took his gun out from his pocket, making sure it was loaded and ready just in case. Of all the times for his flatmate to want to follow the criminals back to their rendezvous spot, it had to be when they were miles from anything resembling civilization that wasn't rotted out and crumbling in the rain. Couldn't even grab a cab out here.

Stopping at the door that Sherlock had assured him would be there, John shuffled it open quietly and stepped inside the musty place, shaking off the water that had misted into his hair while outside. Honey colored eyes took in the entire place quickly, the stack of cargo boxes in front of him providing cover and the sounds of people just beyond that. And then one voice he'd been so sure he wouldn't hear yet coming through with the scratch of a warehouse door being shoved open. Sherlock must have seen an opportunity and gone for it, plan working itself out in his head. John had yet to see a plan that wasn't the running to and fro that came with collecting evidence and spur of the moment deductions.

Eyes closed briefly as he heard the insults flying from the other side of his protective wall of cargo. Did the man think before he commented on what the members had missed when cleaning up their crime scenes or how their wives were unhappy with them? Slinking to the side, John leaned around the boxes to catch a glimpse of what was going on, glad to see that the gang had simply trained their guns on Sherlock and not done anything else. A few of them tried comebacks but Sherlock would shoot them down every time. Interesting, thought John as he glanced around, finally making eye contact with his friend. Sherlock inclined his head to the side, pausing as if to point out that John was supposed to be opposite of where he was.

The smaller man ducked back under cover and went the other way to appease his flatmate, knowing that changing the battle plan while in battle wasn't always the way to go especially with Sherlock. John moved quickly and quietly before stopping short of coming around the other corner. He blinked once, twice… and then grinned softly at what lay before him. He knew the gang had serious dealings but he hadn't imagined that they'd spend it on items as _this_.

Stepping up to the Porsche, John cast his hand over the headlight and stepped to the driver side door. It came open without so much as a beep of an alarm. Grin turning into a rather clear cut smile, John found the keys in the ignition before hearing a gruff comment from behind him and the sound of a gun safety being removed. He'd dallied just a bit too long.

Slamming the door shut, he started the engine and almost purred when it roared to life. The members that had once been focused solely on Sherlock, suddenly realizing there were others there, came around the cargo but John snickered quietly before revving and tearing around them. They jumped back in surprise, one of them turning a rather lovely shade of red as the yellow car sped past him.

John felt, for all intents and purposes, like Bond and that was just too good a feeling to ignore. There was a reason Sherlock had been forced into watching those videos and now John could tell him exactly what kind of trouble a youth who ended up in the army got into as he sped forward and towards the end of the warehouse where Sherlock still stood. Oh yes, there were races and the adrenaline never really could be put away to some back part of his mind. Now though, it was a race against time and Sherlock's long legs if he wanted to keep up and find a rush.

Slamming on the breaks, wheel turning expertly in his hands, John slid the Porsche to a stop sideways. He reached over, flipped the door open, and glanced at his flatmate who was blinking at him as if he'd suddenly found a puzzling clue. From elsewhere, John could hear the shooting of a gun before the loud yelling of someone demanding the car back and not to shoot it.

"You getting in or should I let Lestrade come and claim you this time?" John asked, the words seeming to snap Sherlock out of his analysis before he clambered in, all long limbs folding to match the lines of the car. John took a second to admire the way everything seemed to naturally fit the other man, including this luxury. And he felt a spur deep in his gut knowing that he was the one driving with Sherlock as the passenger, for once being the one to hold on for the ride.

And then it was another layer of rubber on the cement and the car was bounding out of the warehouse, men trying to run after it as if they could catch it. John shot them a look in the mirror before pressing his foot down to the floorboard, passing a few blurs on the way out that could have been the police but right now just looked like colored streaks and bobbing, familiar faces. Another turn and they were on rightful pavement; the road open to them as they cut across back paths and scenic views John hadn't seen is some time.

"I dare say you've done this before," Sherlock intoned eventually, grey eyes having never left the smaller man in the driver's seat. His voice holds just enough edge to it that John knows he wasn't as bored as he made out. Shifting to a higher gear, the smaller man giggled gleefully before throwing a look at his friend, foot steadily holding down the accelerator.

"Oh God yes." A look at the windshield being whipped by rain had John grinning, Sherlock's lips quirking up as well when he glanced over again. "You might want to hold onto something."

* * *

A/N: This was for a prompt at the sherlockbbckinkmeme. It's my first attempt at Sherlock Holmes and I have to question if I have the characterization right. Bit dull but I actually rather like it. Please leave reviews/comments/etc. to help me grab a hang of this new fandom for me! Much love!


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